


Best Ever

by scarletjedi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Missing Scene, Shameless Smut, Star Wars Day 2018, a gift for kettish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 09:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14541861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletjedi/pseuds/scarletjedi
Summary: Luke and Biggs find some time alone.





	Best Ever

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Twenty Questions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14333037) by [kettish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/pseuds/kettish). 



> kettish wrote a fic that implied a blow job. this is that blow job :)

Biggs found him on the South Range, elbow deep into the guts of _the_ vaporator, the one that Luke had been complaining about for the past three seasons. It had been repaired so many times, Luke had essentially rebuilt the damned thing, there being more replacement parts than original, but it still insisted on being _picky,_ acting up every third day.

He’d been out there for an hour, the sun strong on his shoulders, seeping into his skin despite the tight weave of his clothing. He wiped his forehead under his hat when he heard the whine of the approaching engine.

The Darklighter’s land-speeder had whined ever since Biggs had tinkered, confident that he could increase its speed again by half. He had been right, but the engine now had a distinctive squeal when it ran at normal speeds, and no matter how either of them tried to fix it, they couldn’t quite manage.

The speeder pulled to a stop next to him, idling low as Biggs jumped from the driver’s seat and crossed the sand to look into the open panel of the vaporator. He didn’t speak, watching in silence.

“Can I help you?” Luke snapped at last, feeling his temper pop and flare. It was hot, this piece of _poodoo_ was giving him grief, and it was nearly time for mid-meal.

“I think it’s more, ‘I can help you,’” Biggs said, amusement coloring his voice, and it was enough that Luke stopped what he was doing, looking over his shoulder at his best friend.

Biggs had been trying to grow a mustache for most of this season, the dark hair finally coming in more that just an adolescent scraggle: he wanted to look different when he left for the academy, he said, like he wasn’t from some backwater waste.

Luke hated that mustache, and not just because Biggs had gained a habit of rubbing the hair with his finger, like he was doing now, his palm not quiet hiding the grin on his face.

Luke narrowed his eyes. “What are you planning?” he asked, voice slow.

“Nothing!” Biggs protested. “I just wanted to see if you’d want to join me for mid-meal: my parents went to Mos Espa with Dera, won’t be back until tomorrow.”

Luke paused, his world tilting on its axis as he recalibrated, his mouth going dry.

Biggs had been his best friend since they first met, when Luke was three and Aunt Beru had invited the Darklighters over for festival. Quickly inseparable, it struck neither of them as odd when their childish tussling grew teeth and heat and skin.

Finding privacy wasn’t hard in the middle of the desert, but finding _safety_ was something else entirely.

“Let me finish up,” Luke said, his voice rasping in his throat, his lips sticking together. He felt dizzy with the rush, and it was hard to think. Biggs grinned and what little thought Luke had ground to a halt.

“Wizard,” Biggs said, and moved to stand next to Luke, blocking the sun.

It was a custom, a kindness to offer relief, a gesture shared by family, friends, and lovers alike, but Luke still worked all the more quickly in the shade.

* * *

The Darklighter farm wasn’t all that different from the Lars’s, really. All Tatooine architecture was essentially the same: white walls to structures built underground, hallways that were more like tunnels, a recessed courtyard, hidden from the horizon.

But Biggs’s home was a little brighter, a little greener, a little _more_ , their family long-established and successful. It always managed to make something ugly twang in Luke’s chest, deep in the bitter knot that tightened whenever Fixer got on his case or Camie looked down her nose at him or Luke was reminded, in one of a thousand ways, that he was _weird_.

(Biggs never called him weird, never even thought it. It was yet another reason why Luke would go to hell and back for Biggs).

“I’ll get mid-meal ready. You go shower,” Biggs said, once they were inside, out of the heat. “You stink like bantha.”

“You stink like womp rat,” Luke shot back, but made his way over to the ‘fresher anyway, stripping off his tunic as he went. His clothes, sand and all, went into the laundry compartment and he pressed “start” before he stepped into the shower stall. It was quick – showers were always quick on Tatooine, especially the real water ones. Water and sand and the days heat washed down the drain, cleaned and recycled to rain down on him once more. The water tasted metallic, but it felt _amazing;_ at home, water showers were a few-times-a-year treat.

Luke emerged from his shower with his clothing, cleaned and ready, and re-dressed quickly, still tucking his tunic into his belt as he walked back into the kitchen. Biggs had set out leftover woort casserole, quickly reheated. It had thickened, having set, but the spices still stung Luke’s tongue with a pleasant heat, and he hummed at he ate. Biggs’s second mom (his birth mom had passed some years before), made the best woort casserole.

Biggs nudged his foot against Luke’s as they ate, and the heat in his mouth matched the heat in the rest of him as he rode that edge of anticipation. The last time they had this much time alone they had done everything they could think of, and some of it had been too much, too fast and some of it had been the most amazing thing _ever_. Luke couldn’t help but feel that this time, it would be even _better_.

It was only slightly awkward as Biggs cleaned up, Luke helping him load the dishes into the washer, and then lunch was done and Biggs was standing very close and Luke forgot how to breathe.

Biggs kissed him, holding Luke by the sides of his face as if he was a pallie fruit, and Biggs had been in the desert for days. Weak at his knees, Luke sagged, clinging to Biggs’s shoulders even as Biggs walked them back until Luke hit the table. Biggs pressed in close, bending Luke back and Luke pushed himself up, sitting on the edge of the table.

Taller now, Luke grinned down at Biggs, kissing his forehead quickly before Biggs leaned up, biting gently at Luke’s lip, his chin, and mouthing down his jaw. Luke shuddered, and began to push at Biggs’s tunic. He wanted skin.

Biggs chuckled into Luke’s neck, placing a sucking kiss over his pulse point even as he moved, letting Luke pull his tunic off completely before quickly undoing Luke’s belt.

Luke’s eyes fluttered. There was no way he would be able to hide the suckmark, but it was a distant concern. Aunt Beru knew that Luke had a lover somewhere, and had a good idea as to who it was, and Uncle Owen didn’t really care one way or another. Squeezing his eyes shut, Luke willed the thoughts of his family away: they had no place here.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Biggs teased, pulling back only far enough that his breath still ghosted along Luke’s skin.

“So make me stop,” Luke countered.

Luke was expecting to get kissed again, or even dragged from the table into Biggs bedroom to be properly fucked (They had managed, once, successfully, and it still starred in Luke’s late night fantasies).

He did not expect for Biggs to push at Luke’s chest until he was lying flat on the table, his legs spread and hanging off the edge, Biggs a pressing heat between them. Luke’s belt was already open, his tunic quickly following, pushed back high enough to limit the movement of his arms.

Biggs’s fingers were deft at his waist, fingers brushing against Luke’s cock, and he felt as if he had been hard for hours, or at least since his shower, and Biggs’s grin was crooked, cocky and sure as he winked – and then he lowered his head, taking Luke halfway down, sucking gently as he pulled back.

Luke gasped, his head falling back to thunk against the table. It hurt, a distant ache that was easy to dismiss in favor of reaching blindly for Biggs, gripping his head, tangling his fingers in his hair, and guiding him back down.

Biggs laughed, and went, sinking down farther this time, laving the underside of Luke’s cock with his tongue as he bobbed his head, catching each time on the most perfect spot: the third time, Luke cried out, and then Biggs hit that spot again, and again, and again, until Luke began to tremble – then he took him deeper and held there, not moving until Luke, near-blind with lust, lifted his heavy head too see Biggs looking at him, lips shining obscenely, wrapped as they were about Luke’s cock.

Luke swallowed thickly ,and Biggs took him deeper, never looked away, until those same lips were pressed flush to him, and Luke covered his mouth with his hand, instinctively holding back a shout.

That made Biggs back off, ignoring the way Luke whined as the cool air hit his cock, and Biggs grabbed Luke’s wrist to pull his hand from his mouth. “Let me hear you,” Biggs said, and his voice was already hoarse, and Luke knew _why_ and it was enough to make his eyes cross, but he nodded, fervent – anything to get Biggs‘s mouth back on him.

Biggs watched him for a long minute, eyes narrowed, before he nodded, and sat back, licking at the crown to make Luke’s breath hitch before he swallowed him down once more.

He was so deep – he had to have Luke all the way in his throat, and the idea made Luke groan even as he raised his hand, fingers trembling, to pet at Biggs’s hair, his face, feeling the way the skin on his cheek was pulled taught, running along Biggs’s jaw, feeling the muscle, and down to rest against Biggs’s throat and Luke gasped.

He could feel it, could feel himself in Biggs’s throat as he swallowed, right around Luke’s cockhead, and it was _wizard_ , it was _incredible_ , it was _incandescent_ and Luke could only watch, wide-eyed as Biggs fucked his face on Luke’s cock.

It didn’t take long, how could it when everything felt so fucking _good_ , and then Luke’s vision went white, colors sparking as he felt himself scream, and then he was floating, lost in the haze.

Luke came back to himself with Biggs braced over him, his hand pressed to the table next to Luke’s hip, his gasping breath stirring Luke’s hair, the slick sound of his hand on his cock echoing off the walls. Luke opened his eyes just in time to see Biggs break, face red and twisted in pleasure, and feel the hot, wet splatter of Biggs’s come on his chest. Luke shifted, arching into it as Biggs let his head fall forward, resting just below Luke’s collarbone, lowering down to rest on his forearms.

Biggs twitched, panting, and Luke kissed his hair, lifting his hands to run up Biggs’s sides, gently caressing his skin until Biggs lifted his head and kissed Luke, deep and possessive.

Luke hummed into it, still feeling floaty, and he was smiling when Biggs pulled back to press their foreheads together.

“You passed out,” Biggs said, sounding like gravel, and Luke shivered.

“I did,” he said, and it almost sounded like a question. “After we,” Luke gestured to his chest, the table, and their pants, still around their legs. “Wanna see if you can do it again?”

Biggs grinned. “You’re on.”


End file.
